As the heart of the town festivities, the open area in front of the Temple steps is good natured chaos for most of the day. Butterfly concentrations are highest in this area, which means it also has the greatest number of children and drunks chasing butterflies. Catching one and then releasing it is supposed to be good luck, so try to not skoosh them if you engage in the game.

The crowds in the Temple are are merry. There is a dancing area directly in front of the steps, while various bards and groups perform for the dancers from the makeshift stage that all but blocks the Temple doors. Strings of flowers festoon every nook and cranny of the buildings around the square. Numerous booths have been set up for selling all sorts of trinkets and toys. You can find nearly any sort of lucky charm, blessed book or childhood playtoy available at some point around the square.

Along the north side of the square are the booths which were set up for the cooking contest. The contest is over, but these places are still 'manned' by their respective sponsers. Drinks of all sorts are available for thirsty festival participants and food in the form of meat pies, bread and cheese and other easy to carry small portions.

The buildings around the square are mostly one story in height. There are a few that are taller. Only the White Deer Inn, which really is not on the square but is visible, is three stories tall. There are some festival patrons on the balcony of the White Deer, enjoying the atmosphere without being down in the crush of the crowds. A few of the flat roofed buildings have poorer folk and youngsters imitating the rich folk by lounging on them. That is, until the building's owners notice and chase them off.

The schedule for the day, announced multiple times throughout the town, is that the Temple to Desna will be dedicated at Sunset. This ceremony is said to be short, for a religious ceremony, and will be attended by most of the town dignitaries. After the ceremony, there will be a short memorial for those lost in the fire and other tragedies that occurred five years ago. And then fireworks.

This last bit is why at least one third of the crowd at sunset is under the age of ten.

Robin Ludel, Vicamros Urthadar, Kes, & Rodrick

Please post for your characters. Let us know what you've been doing with your day and end up with being in the Temple Area and what you are currently doing.

Rather than search the town for a room that was available, Robin spent the previous night camping just outside of town. In the morning he checked all of his equipment, save his armor and whip, in with the town sheriff rather than lug it around all day. He spent the day partaking in the various games and activities, until heading to the square to get a good spot to see the fireworks. He's been spending the last few hours entertaining the younger children using dancing lights and prestidigitation.

The smell of the sugared cakes drew in Rodrick and soon enough he had a full belly and sticky fingers. He looked back and forth to see if anyone was watching then wiped them on the back of his leather breeches. He could change them when he got back to his mother's old apartment. Luckily the current residents had been aquaintces of his mother and allowed him to leave his gear there. They had invited him to stay longer but he found it difficult to sleep in the home with the recent passing of his mother.

It was Rodrick's hope that he would feel more at peace with himself with the memorial of the temple and remeberance of the those lost in recent years. Despite this, he knew his mother would want him to have a good time. So he bought a drink for himself, indulged in the sweets Sandpoint had to offer, both those to eat and the women to dance with and had picked out a good spot to see the fireworks. As he currently sat a bench cutting off thin slices of cake with his ever maintained combat knife and passing them out to many kids chasing the butterflies (or fire flies depending on the time).

I want to be somewhere else. Kes has a problem. Lulu, age eight, and Paris, age nine. Daughters of one of the Scarnettis' biggest customers. In town from Magnimar for the cathedral's big day. Yet another of his employer's and the other town notables' concessions to noblesse oblige. Which didn't necessarily mean everyone loved them back. Thus Kes and the other armed guards on the sawmill's payroll.

The day had begun promisingly. Kes helping with the preparations for the contests at the mill. Looking forward to further touching displays of community spirit as the festivities stretched toward the evening. Word of the Kitten's plans for the solemnities had reached his ears.

Then the temple sent a runner. Someone missed an open latch on a swallowtail cage. Would the sawmill be so kind and hasten a woodsman? Kes spent the afternoon obliging. It was certain to be heartwarming watching the incredibly elusive and fast fliers loosed onto the crowd later. Resting he felt something tug at his armor and nearly took out his frustration on Paris and her sister asking for a souvenir. He was near tears.

The knot keeping his cutlass safely in its scabbard resists a firm pull. He looks over to where he keeps his quiver and longbow stowed behind the Sandpoint Lumber Mill crafts booth. It wouldn't do to wear a few dozen steel-tipped arrows on his person within reach of curious fingers. Two well-dressed little girls look on next to their stern but comely aunt. Once more into the breach . . . maybe I can ask her to look away.

"There it goes! Don't leave the booth." He brings the butterfly net down as he comes in reach.

Vic's day was of the mixed variety. He had arrived the night before, 'forced' to camp on the outskirts of town rather than in an inn. I say forced because, well, he was looking forward to having a bath at an inn. It was a minor setback. He had woken up early and began his morning routine. Vic pulls the small prayer book off of his belt. He opens it up soon after and began his day the smart way - with words to his deity.

The sun began to crest over the horizon as his prayers were coming to a close. He was stationed a little higher than the town as he had camped a bit away from it. As the sunlight plays over the roofs, a site caught his eye. Orange and yellows gave color to the beating wings of butterflies as they emerge from areas that were still colored purples and blues. It's a breathtaking sight, and the perfect way for him to end his prayers to his goddess. His hands reverently close the prayer book as his eyes focus on the butterflies playing with the early sunlight. His gaze was fills with awe, his eyes threatening to tear up at the lovely sight in front of him. He didn't dare move or speak, enjoying the relative silence and watching the beautiful scene play out in front of him. His jaw fell way, his mouth open in shear astonishment of the colors and beating of butterfly wings.

After some time, he finally brought himself back around and to his senses. He stores the prayer book back on the leather thong at his hip as the last portion of his morning prayers. A bit of quick packing, and a light breakfast from supplies he had gathered the day before, then he was off into the town. Waking early enough to avoid some of the rush, he stores most of his supplies with the Sheriff, with the horse and mule stabling up where he could find room (at a bit more than the usual rates - supply and demand, gotta love it). Still sporting his armor, a shield on his back and scimitar at his hip, it looks to be a good day indeed.

The first stop would be to find the man of the hour, Ezakien Tobyn. It was much easier than Vic thought it would be. "You say his schedule is free...?"
"Ohhhh I would hope so."
"But the church... the ceremonies. Surely he wouldn't want to be disturbed?"
"In a manner of speaking."
To cut to the chase, he was probably the last person in the world to find the fate of the Cleric. He would visit the site of his final resting later, he was in too much shock to do so just then. He found a spot and sat down in the town square, he was shocked. He couldn't believe it. "I'm shocked... I can't believe it."
There was no way that he could enjoy the festival now. Someone who has impacted his life that much, only to find out that he was never able to tell the man how he had changed..."Is that..." sniffs, "Venison?" He slowly stood up, and made his way toward the stalls now that midday was approaching, the savory smelling meat breaking him free of the trance he had been in. So he sampled the foods, all three, as lunch had came and went. The lobster was good, the salmon was better, but he would swear up and down that the peppered venison was the best of the three - even if it did come with green decoration on the side.

The rest of his afternoon was spent conversing with some of the locals, learning about the small town he was now in and on the life of Ezakien Tobyn. When he could, he even played a couple friendly hands of cards with the people. No gambling, just a bit of fun time on the side (gambling would come later - after nightfall, in a tavern, after people started to drink heavily, assuming it wasn't against the law). It was a good afternoon, and a good day, even if he had learned some terrible news about a man whom he held in high regard and dear to himself. As the sun began heading down further, nearing the end of the day, he began to put his cards away. There would be more time for that later, now it was time to get a good spot for the religious service that would be held. He may not have been of Desna's faith, but he was pretty sure he still knew some of the rhetoric.

The day has been quite colorful for all. Robin's magic show is a tremendous hit with everyone, not just the children. Rodrick lounges with sticky fingers beside the Rusty Dragon booth. Across the crowd Kes tries his best to mollify young girls and their important parents while even the imposing figure of Vicamros was still jostled on occasion as townsfolk and visitors alike gathered near the podium. Music was still playing, but Sheriff Hemlock and two of his guardsmen were escorting Mayor Deverin and her husband to their seats on the podium, followed by the other dignitaries and elders of the town.

Father Abstalar Zantus takes the stage, his brightly colored robes looking resplendent in the last light of the sun. The crowd buzzes with anticipation, somewhere on the edge of the crowd a dog is barking. Father Zantus raises his arms, and (as this was the prearranged signal) one of his acolytes sets off a thunderstone on the roof of the temple. The deafening crack rolls through town, pausing conversations and drawing attention to the stage. Also on cue, temple braziers are lit to provide illumination for the raised podium. The crowd falls silent, except that pesky dog.

"Welcome! Welcome friends, family and visitors from across the land!" Father Zantus calls out in his famously cheerful manner. "Blessings of Desna be upon you all!"

Then the barking of the dog changes, suddenly cut off in a pained yelp that ends in a final, wet, sort of sound. Over by the Hagfish booth, a woman screams in pain and collapses. The crowd surges, panicky and fearful, jumping first one direction and then another. As Father Zantus calls for quiet, trying to calm the crowd until the source of the disturbance can be found, a body suddenly plummets from the temple roof and lands with a sickening thud on the stage. The young acolyte who had set off the thunderstone, her back an open slash bleeding profusely, and above the temple door a goblin dances, sprinkling blood from his blade like an obscene benediction.

While the goblin on the temple is the most frightening visible sign, the screams from other corners turns people in all directions, pushing and shoving. Screams of 'goblins' come from all corners.

Begin Round One

The Sheriff orders his men to protect the Mayor and other dignitaries. Father Zantus drops to his knees and attempts to save the acolyte who had been pushed from the temple roof. The crowd surges in a fearful waves, first one direction and then the other.

Rodrick : You can see that a goblin has attacked the waitress in the Hagfish booth. He holds a bloody dogslicer in one hand and dances gleefully, capering and mimicking her screams of fear. The goblin is terribly amused with himself and does not appear to be paying any attention to anything but how much he can terrify the poor girl. You are fifteen feet away from the goblin.

Robin : As there have been no actual screams from your corner of the crowd, most of the festival celebrants who still have their wits are surging in your direction. The children in front of you are looking about in confusion and the smaller ones are beginning to cry. Down to the south, where the cries of 'Goblins' are coming from, you can see half a dozen or more of the little beggars sprinting into the crowd. The nasty little fiends are laying about with their rusty dogslicers; hacking at legs and cackling with joy at the panic they are creating.

And while they mostly vanish out of your sight, one of the fatter looking goblins appears to have heard the sound of crying children. Licking his lips, the portly goblin is racing directly at your little audience with his dogslicer held high. You are forty feet away from this goblin.

Kes : From your vantage point, you are in a good position to see the dog. Behind the festivly decorated display counters, the merchant booths along the south side are a clutter of boxes, bails and wagons. A dog tied behind the one next to your booth has been slaughtered by two goblins. One of them continues to stab and slash at the corpse, shouting little goblin curses at it and spitting hatefully. You are thirty feet away from this goblin.

The other goblin has dropped his dogslicer in favor of stealing an axe from the Scarnetti booth. The implement is too big, nearly a foot longer than the goblin is tall, and top heavy. Still, the insanely giggling creature hefts it in a wild practice swing before turning his attention to the fearful looking crowd. You are only twenty feet away from this goblin.

Vicamros : The goblin capering on the temple roof ensures no one shoves or pushes their way forwards, which is lucky because even your great strength may have had trouble keeping you upright in a panicked crowd. At the southern corner of the stage you see a more immediate danger.

A stack of wood, set in preparation for the bonfire after the ceremony, has two goblins. One is busily shoving oil soaked logs and tinder under the podium while the other is trying use a long stick to knock over the brazier of coals that Sheriff Hemlock recently set alight. You are twenty feet away from these goblins. But the pile of wood is in the way and will provide crappy footing unless you go around, adding ten feet to your travel.

Vica felt the jostling and the unnerving of the crowd brought him a greater sense of unease. His first reaction was to pull his shield free and put a hand to his pommel. It was a decided turn of events and he isn't entirely sure what to make of it until he sees the goblins. The half-orc's eyes widen as he comes to grips with what the goblins nearby are doing. He makes hasty travel toward the one who was trying to knock over the brazier. His words are more for the one at the fire, but they're not meant only for him.

"Hold!" He calls in the Goblin tongue. His head shakes from side-to-side and he beats a quick advance toward the one he's addressing. He still does not draw his weapon as he instead continues to try and talk to them. He takes the longer approach so as not to sacrifice his footing, nor did want to risk losing eye contact, if he can get it with the goblin he's talking to. "Don't! Surely there is another way we can deal with this. I know that there must be a reason behind your doings. Let's talk this over, we don't need to result to violence, nor the destruction in this town. This destruction will only bring more, to here and to your kind. I know that the humans, and others, are not as well taken to those who look different, but there must be a way we can settle this that is best for us all."

Diplomacy +5 from skill, +2 Monstrous Rapport

Dice Roll: 1d20+7
d20 Results: 2 (Total = 9)

(OOC: His intent is to make the Goblins stop what they're doing. His preparations will be to attack next round if the one by the brazier starts to make headway with the coals.)

Kes looks back at the stage as he exits the crowd milling at the plaza. Paris and her sister cling contentedly to their parents. Their aunt stands close by ready to release a net full of swallowtails. Her name is Lucia and she's staying at Ameiko's. Alone . . .

It happens without warning. He spins to look up at the body's origin fearing the worst. He recalls nothing so brazen happening in Sandpoint in his lifetime. But he's heard tales during his travels. Shoanti? Raiders from the Cinderlands? How could a warband close on the town unseen? Where is the elf? Were they attacking elsewhere? A cold knot forms in his stomach while his eyes search the scene. Mother . . . Shalelu . . .

. . . goblins?

Blinking back surprise his cutlass flies from its scabbard as his steps speed him toward the goblin stealing the axe. He's seen what the others had done.